


One man's practicality is another's perdition

by Starrie_Wolf



Series: Gift Fics [Starrie Wolf] [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Derek Hale, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek in Uniform, Embedded Images, For a Friend, Gen, Gen for chapter 1, M/M, M/M for chapter 2, POV Sheriff Stilinski, POV Stiles, Season/Series 05, Spoilers for Episodes 1-3 of Season 5, Uniform Kink, What could have happened if Derek never left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Those other werewolves that came rampaging through, Dandelion or whatever –”</p><p>“Deucalion.”</p><p>“Yeah, from what you’ve said, they’re much worse. Hale’s quiet, polite, and hasn’t even killed anyone. You told me this… this dead tree stump thing is attracting supernatural creatures into Beacon Hills. <i>Murderous</i> supernatural creatures. How can the police force protect this town from them, when we can’t even protect ourselves?”</p><p>Or, Derek Hale is the newest deputy in Beacon Hills, and Stiles both loves and hates it. [Now comes with a Deputy Hale manip]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guineamania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write a fic about Deputy Hale for your Clothing/Uniform Kink but failed terribly sorry so there will be a second chapter from Stiles' PoV that actually earns the relationship tag.

“You know, Dad, when you said you needed to beef up the force I wasn’t expecting _this_.”

The Sheriff favoured his son with a particularly unimpressed look. “You told me this… this dead tree stump thing is attracting supernatural creatures into Beacon Hills. _Murderous_ supernatural creatures. How can the police force protect this town from them, when we can’t even protect ourselves?”

“That’s our job,” protested Stiles a little weakly.

“Your _job_ is to go to school, so that you can actually _get_ a job.”

“Yeah, but.” Stiles flailed a little, pointing towards the outer office. “You hired _a werewolf_.”

Sheriff Stilinski glanced towards the source of his son’s consternation. Even through the blinds, he could see Derek Hale’s raised eyebrow. No doubt his newest deputy had heard everything. He rolled his eyes. “Your _best friend_ is a werewolf,” he reminded Stiles. “Don’t tell me you of all people have something against werewolves.”

He lowered his voice. There had to be a limit to this superhuman hearing thing, right? “I thought you trusted Hale. Or is there something you want to tell me?”

“I do!” yelped Stiles, without a single moment of hesitation, and he breathed a sigh of relief, because whatever else his son might be, a consummate liar was not one of them. He deflected, he omitted, but he couldn’t tell a straight lie. Good. For a moment he had been afraid that he’d made the wrong decision to hire Hale.

“That’s good, because those other werewolves that came rampaging through, Dandelion or whatever –”

“Deucalion,” corrected Stiles automatically, cringing.

The Sheriff waved it off. “Yeah, from what you’ve said, they’re much worse. Hale’s quiet, polite, and hasn’t even killed anyone.”

In the outer office, Hale’s eyes snapped down to his computer, but there was a tiny confused smile playing about his lips, making him look far less like a homicidal murderer and much more like the teenaged boy Stiles had dragged back from Mexico before the whole deadpool debacle. Had it only been six months since then? It felt like a lifetime.

The past few months had been quiet, but he couldn’t shake the fact that ever since he’d woken up with Melissa and Argent in that dilapidated cellar beneath the tree roots, Beacon Hills had experienced more homicides than he’d witnessed during his entire career. He had to do something about it.

Not to mention, Jordan needed a new partner after Haigh. The Sheriff wasn’t about to send someone with a newly-discovered supernatural side out alone, not after the bits and pieces Stiles let slip about newly-turned werewolves, and he didn’t want to bench the man for something he couldn’t control. Precisely because he couldn’t control it. What if he accidentally set something on fire?

Derek Hale seemed to be the obvious choice.

So what was his son so concerned about?

~*~*~*~*~

And then the first homicide began, and there was no time to worry about Stiles. As much as he hated to admit it, his kid had been doing this for longer than he had. Stiles could take care of himself. Meanwhile, he had a date to prepare for, one that he couldn’t cancel again.

“Thanks for meeting me here, it's been a hectic day at the station.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek Hale stand up. Ever since the homicides had started up, Hale had been working the night shifts just in case. Now his newest deputy was circling around the empty desks, looking wary. “Sir –” he started.

The door burst open, Kira and Lydia tumbling in, and drowning out whatever Hale had been trying to say. “Mom!” shrieked Lydia, grabbing Natalie’s arm. “Mom, she's coming. Tracy's coming for you.”

“What? What do you mean for me?”

Hale’s head snapped towards the entrance, the movement drawing Sheriff Stilinski’s attention, and so he was staring right at it when Tracy Stewart appeared at the door with a strange hissing sound. He squinted in vague confusion, even as his gun found its way automatically into his hand. Was that… a tail?

“The tail contains a paralytic venom,” Hale murmured, politely letting him keep whatever-Tracy-was in his line of sight, but clearly positioning himself between the threat and the humans. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And she’s very fast.”

Given that he was sure Hale had never met Tracy before in his life, the Sheriff wasn’t exactly sure how he knew that, but he wasn’t about to question the expert. Especially when Kira was thrown aside like a ragdoll in a blur of motion far too fast for him to catch, and then Tracy was advancing upon Natalie, her tail – and it felt odd to say that, even in the safety of his own mind – swishing in agitation from side to side. Lydia clutched her mother’s arm, trying to drag her away, but Natalie was rooted to the spot. He didn’t blame her.

Then Derek tackled Tracy, and the two of them went down in a tangle of limbs. The Sheriff belatedly lowered his gun, not wanting to shoot Hale by accident, and went to help Lydia persuade her shell-shocked mother to sneak around the desks to get out of the station.

In a mere few minutes, it was over. Hale was kneeling on top of the girl, her tail caught in one hand, his other hand pinning her down by the throat. Sheriff Stilinski caught a glimpse of blue eyes and oddly-pinched cheeks, before Hale turned away, probably to spare Natalie’s nerves.

“Call someone who can do something about this.”

“Scott isn’t picking up,” said Kira.

“Stiles isn’t picking up,” said Lydia.

Hale looked as though it was physically paining him not to be able to roll his eyes. “Someone who can _do something_ about this.” Tracy thrashed underneath him, and the Sheriff could _see_ Hale’s muscles bulging in his effort to hold her down.

“She broke through a mountain ash circle like it wasn’t there, so I don’t think there’s anyone who can do something about it.” Malia marched through the doors, making a beeline for Tracy and keeping well out of reach of the twitching tail. Her voice gentled as she crouched down in front of the immobilised girl. “Hey, it’s Malia. Tracy, you’re not asleep. This isn’t a dream, and you need to open your eyes now.”

“What.” Hale’s tone was flat.

Malia ignored him. “Yes, that’s right. You’re not asleep, all of this is real. Let us help you.”

“We can help you if you stop fighting,” coaxed Lydia, crouching down beside Malia. “It’s me, Lydia. Remember me? I’m the only one who believed you, remember? Let me help you again. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“All of this is real,” repeated Malia patiently.

“We just want to help,” added Lydia.

Something must have gotten through, for Tracy gradually stopped thrashing in Hale’s grip, and finally went limp. “Real?” she croaked, the first word he’d heard her say all day.

Lydia’s smile was tinged with sadness, but it was genuine. “Yes, Tracy. This is real.”

At a word from the girls, Hale cautiously got off her.

The doors slammed open yet again, and Scott rushed through, closely followed by Alan Deaton. The Sheriff didn’t understand the small huff of exasperation Hale gave until his newest deputy went out and came back in with one of Stiles’ arms slung over his shoulders, half-supporting half-dragging his son into the station.

“I hate kanima venom,” he could barely hear Stiles mutter over the eddy of reassurances everyone else was giving Tracy, or Hale’s answering hum.

Paralytic venom. Right.

Stiles’ next words were so soft, he only caught them because he was already looking at the two of them. “Thanks for looking after my Dad.”

Hale shrugged carelessly, but his motions were careful when he deposited Stiles into one of the chairs before wandering back towards the Sheriff. “Don’t move, I’ll drive you home later.”

“Har har,” griped Stiles. “Very funny!” he yelled at Hale’s retreating back. Something about their interactions niggled at the back of his mind, and he filed it away for examination later. For now, he had a job to do, one that involved the kids discussing a guard rotation on Tracy right there in his office. At this rate, he might as well make them _all_ honorary junior deputies.

~*~*~*~*~

When he got home the next morning, the Camaro was still parked in front of the house, but he paid it no heed. Despite their best attempts, Tracy Stewart was dead, killed by some guys wearing masks – though he didn’t see any of them, must be another supernatural thing – who’d swatted Scott and Malia aside like flies. It was probably a good thing that Derek Hale had crashed at his house for the night, because that meant Stiles at least was safe.

He had far more important things to worry about right now than wonder exactly _why_ Hale felt the need to stay the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, _what_ were Stiles and Derek doing with the house to themselves?
> 
> [Chapter 1 now contains a bonus Deputy Hale manip, if you missed it.]

“I can’t believe my Dad hired you,” Stiles griped.

Derek raised an eyebrow, and yeah, okay, he really wasn’t making a very good case with the way he was clinging onto Derek’s unfairly muscled biceps, mouthing at Derek’s collarbone.

With some serious effort, he pulled his mouth off Derek’s neck. “Seriously! My _Dad_ ’s the Sheriff, it’s just _wrong_ for me to find an officer’s uniform as hot as I do, okay?” The hickey he’d been valiantly trying to give Derek for the past half an hour faded away into unblemished flesh, and Stiles heaved a forlorn sigh. Stupid werewolf healing.

“You do a lot of things that you shouldn’t,” Derek pointed out.

Stiles punched him in the shoulder, although all he managed to accomplish was hurt his own hand. “Oww…” he whimpered, shaking it. Derek looked up at the ceiling as though in a prayer for patience, and really, Stiles shouldn’t be finding that little exasperated quirk of the eyebrow as hot as he did either, but his hindbrain clearly wasn’t listening to him.

He tried to point _that_ out too, but Derek’s hand – one cupping the back of his head, one splayed over the small of his back like he was trying to hold Stiles in place, though Stiles couldn’t imagine _ever_ wanting to leave, unless his Dad suddenly came home or something – tugged him back in for another kiss.

Derek’s stubble scraped painfully against his chin, making him wince. Stiles opened his mouth to tell him to be more careful, but his boyfriend took this as an invitation instead, and really, nobody could blame him for completely losing his train of thought with Derek Hale’s tongue halfway down his throat, mapping it out like Derek was trying to memorise the contours of his mouth.

Stiles’ hands found their way under Derek’s tan shirt, yanking it carelessly out from the matching pants. Derek was practically a space heater under his hands, something about higher metabolism rates that he could neither remember nor care less about right then, not with the smooth expanse of skin under his fingertips, or the slight hitch in Derek’s breathing when his hands skated upwards.

They broke apart reluctantly, breaths mingling, and Stiles could spend an eternity counting the individual green flecks in Derek’s eyes.

“It’s late, and you’ve got school tomorrow.” His boyfriend’s voice was a low burr that sent shivers down Stiles’ spine.

Stiles closed his eyes, and propped his forehead briefly on Derek’s shoulder, because yeah, he understood why Derek refused to go further than making out until he was of legal age. The only thing worse than having to arrest _yourself_ for statutory rape, was getting arrested by your boss for the same charge. And that wasn’t even bringing up that _thing that should not be mentioned_. If Derek needed just this one small thing to reassure himself that he wasn’t Kate Argent, Stiles would have to be a totally despicable boyfriend to deny him that bit of comfort.

That didn’t mean he didn’t try to push, because he was Stiles Stilinski. Pushing the boundaries was in his middle name. “Stay the night?”

Derek hesitated, just the fraction of a second, but that was all Stiles needed. “If my Dad comes back early – and I don’t think he will, not until he figures out what to do about Tracy – we’ll tell him you just want to make sure I’m safe.”

Derek shot an incredulous glance down at his state of partial undress, and back up at Stiles. Stiles followed his line of sight down automatically, and then hastily wrenched his eyes back up, because they were having a Very Important Conversation and he would not be deterred no matter how lickable Derek’s eight-pack looked.

“Are you… petting my stomach?”

Stiles snatched his hands away as though they were burnt, nearly smacking Derek in the face, and held them up defensively in front of him. He ignored the Derek’s eyebrows were laughing at him. “You’ll hear him coming, won’t you? And then you can go… go hide behind the door when he comes in! Just like old times.”

“Or,” suggested Derek with an eyeroll, “I could go drag the spare mattress over from the guest room, and wave at him when he comes in.”

“Or you could do that, yeah,” agreed Stiles, and propped himself up on the bed to watch Derek’s ass as his boyfriend went to do just that.

There might be a new threat in Beacon Hills, and they were all going to be in danger just like every other time the Nemeton attracted something, but that could wait until morning. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the two of them. And he intended to take advantage of every stolen moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I have a Tumblr if you're interested!](starriewolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
